I came back to the house after dark.

The power was long cut; I carried a small blue torch.

Its beam found the coats, still on their hooks.

Found the seventeenth stair that always used to sing.

Found the table where the four of us sat.

Found my heights, pencilled up the doorframe.

I stood in the last of the small cold light,

and let the house stay as dark as it wanted.

Then I turned the beam to the door, and let it go.

move your light across the dark